


forest fire heart

by eagleboycos



Series: im a little kid with a big death wish [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Character Death In Dream, M/M, Multi, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eagleboycos/pseuds/eagleboycos
Summary: kavinsky cant seem to keep his worst fears and his dreams seperate. the version of prokopenko that exists in that forest knows what happened to the real one.
Relationships: Joseph Kavinsky/Prokopenko
Series: im a little kid with a big death wish [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/866910
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	forest fire heart

Dark, leafy treetops rose up above Kavinsky. He immediately recognized the forest; his secret place. Just his.

The trees hadn't seen him yet. K sat up. He’d woken into the dream on his back, laying flat in the cool grass. He brushed a blade of it off his arm, looking around. Usually, he went into dreams with a goal and the thing would be before him already. In and out. Tonight, though, things were convoluted. He hardly fell asleep and just… dreamt. Kavinsky's sleep was usually dreamless unless he had a goal, but not tonight.

Kavinsky got up, keeping himself small as he crept along through the trees, careful to be quiet. He walked for what seemed like hours, but he couldn’t tell when he had started and when he came to a halt. 

K tried to think about reality, but his mind felt foggy. All that came through was a hazy thought of Prokopenko. His heart lurched, and then his mind sped up. ‘ _ Proko, Proko, Proko, Proko, Proko,’  _ and then, an abrupt:  _ ‘He’s dead.’ _

Then, something changed. The dream shifted. It shuddered. It  _ groaned _ .  _ ‘Dream’  _ began to be the wrong word for it; it was turning into a nightmare. 

_ ‘Wake up,’ _ he told himself.  _ ‘Wake up, Kavinsky, wake up!’ _

It was too late. There was Prokopenko, standing on the other side of the clearing. The trees were moving now and the wind kicked up. It howled through his ears. He’d wandered for too long, and the towering forest had seen him. 

“I don’t want a fake one,” He yelled at the forest. “I don’t want a forgery! I want  _ my _ Prokopenko!” The nightmare version of Maksym advanced on Kavinsky.

“Do you think anyone is  _ listening _ ?” The nightmare sneered. It was a sneer that Kavinsky had never seen on Prokopenko’s features before. The difference between this sneer and Maksym’s usual smile was jarring.

“Do you  _ really _ think anyone is going to help you after what you’ve done?” He spat. K swallowed hard, breathing coming faster. He thought he saw a flash of blue hair through the trees.

“You  _ killed  _ me, K.” Prokopenko spat, still slowly advancing on him. “If you hadn’t said all those things to me, I’d be alive. This is all your fault.”

There was a flash of dark brown skin through the trees on Prokopenko’s other side. 

“I didn’t mean to-” Kavinsky’s voice was wavering.

“Bull _ shit _ . You wanted me dead, didn’t you? You said so yourself.” The hellish nightmare was shifting more. It was getting more realistic. Everything was right down to the freckle on Prokopenko’s neck, right where it met his shoulders. Kavinsky could see it, now.

Kavinsky caught a flash of a phone screen through the foliage behind Prokopenko.

He shook his head wildly, “No, no, fuck, I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, Maks, please!” Kavinsky felt the shuddering sobs rise in his chest an instant before one broke loose.

Prokopenko was standing in front of Kavinsky, now. He looked angry- no, furious.  _ Beyond  _ furious. There was an unmistakable, unmasked hatred in his grey eyes. 

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke. K stayed silent, begging this nightmarish version of  _ his _ Maksym Prokopenko to spare him, to have mercy on him, to forgive him. Prokopenko looked into Kavinsky’s eyes. Kavinsky thought he saw something soften, just for a moment. He reached up a hand to put to Prokopenko’s cheek, but the taller boy recoiled, putting distance back in between them like a wall. The hatred in Prokopenko’s eyes had faltered for a moment as they stared at each other, but it was back in full force, now.

Prokopenko balled and unballed his fists by his side, almost like he was deciding whether or not he wanted to hit K.

“You know they all blame you. I’m gone, and they blame you for all of it.” His voice was quiet. It was less like an accusation as it had been earlier. Now, it was like a word of warning. 

“No, they don’t. They think you overdosed on accident.” Kavinsky replied quietly. 

“I’m not stupid, K.” This was Skov, emerging from the darkness like a ghost. There was the same hatred in his hazel eyes. “I know that this is all your fucking fault.” It was impossible to tell if this Skov was a fabrication of the nightmare or if-

“Do you think we’re all brainless?” Jiang joined them in the clearing, now. His black-brown eyes were also on fire. There was rustling in the bushes to his left, and that could only mean one thing.

“I thought I could trust you.” Swan hissed. “I thought you were my friend. You lied to me like I was an  _ idiot _ .” He spat, getting in Kavinsky’s face from the side; but K was still looking at Prokopenko. He wouldn’t be able to take seeing the hatred in Swan’s eyes. Kavinsky squeezed his eyes shut. 

“You aren’t real. None of you are real. You don’t know.” His voice was quiet and shaking, and he swallowed hard. “Proko is dead.” When he opened his eyes, the rest of the pack had vanished like they were never there in the first place.

Prokopenko was in front of him again as well, closer than he had gotten through the whole dream. His breath ghosted against Kavinsky’s lips. The sides of their noses touched, barely. Kavinsky breathed a deep breath to try to steady himself, but choked on the air slightly. 

The dreamscape had even gotten Prokopenko’s cologne right. _He_ had gotten Prokopenko's cologne right.

Prokopenko put a hand on Kavinsky's cheek, dragging his fingertips over K’s tan face. “I wish I couldn’t remember loving you.” The dream boy whispered, thumb dragged lightly over K’s lips, sending a sick jolt to K’s heart. A tear rolled down Kavinsky’s other cheek. 

Kavinsky took a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry.”

And then he woke up.


End file.
